It’s six months today since Georgie died. That’s six of your months, it’s the equivalent of seven years in my lifespan. Its a long time in anyone’s language. The leaves have all turned gold and brown, or fallen off the trees already and winter is coming. We used to cuddle up to each other in winter. Well we’d cuddle up anytime we felt like a bit of company or warmth, to be fair.
I don’t miss him like I used to at first, I miss him in a different way because he’s always with me really, just not beside me. Sometimes when I’m under his hammock I remember him almost like he’s there, and seeing that plane in the sky in the summer made me think of him too. He had such vision! I just saw this funny bird going across the sky, George understood it was a form of transport and he could sit in it and look down on us in the garden far below. He loved the idea of being able to fly.
Mummy told me she lit a candle in a huge building called Norwich cathedral, to remember George, and Hugo and Mariusz. I like the idea of a candle throwing its little flame into a huge space to make the memory of loved ones fly free. Victor and I are going to have a quiet sit and remember for George, and Hugo, and for Mariusz too, and then we’ll eat a little hay or something as a celebration. I think it’s too late in the season to have any strawberry juice.